disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a Fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he, that escapes me without forme broken limb, shall acquit him well. Yourbrotheris but young and tender, and for your love I would be loth to foil him; as I must for mine own honour, if he come inl; therefore out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find, I will most kindly requite. I had myfelf notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I tell thee, Charles, he is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck, as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou doft him any flight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himfelf on thee, he will practise against thee by poifon; entrap thee by some treacherous device; and never leave thee, 'till he hath ta'enthy life by fome indirect means or other; for I affure thee, (and almost with tears I speak it) there is not one so young and fo villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Cha. I am heartily glad, I came hither to you: if he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment; if ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more; and fo, God keep your Worship.

[Exit.

Oli. Farewel, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamester: I hope, I shall fee an end of him;

B 2

for my foul, foul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and yet learned; full of noble device, of all Sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, fo much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people who best know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be fo, long; this wrestler shall clear all; nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about.do [Exit.

SCENE IV.

Changes to an Open Walk, before the Duke's Palace.
Enter Rofalind and Celia.

Cel. Pray thee, Rosalind, fweet my coz, be merry.

Rof. Dear I show more mirth than I

am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier ? unless you could teach me to forget a banish'd father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Herein, I fee, thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle the Duke, my, father, fo thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so would'ft thou if the truth of thy love to me were fo righteoufly temper'd, as mine is to thee.

Rof. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine Honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my fweet Rofe, my dear Rofe, be merry.

Rof.

Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise Sports: let me fee, what think you of falling in love ?

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither, than with fafety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.

Rof. What shall be our Sport then?

Cel. Let us fit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

Rof. I would, we could do fo; for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true; for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favoured.

Rof. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature.

Enter Touchstone, a Clown.

Cel. No! when nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire? tho' nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this Fool to cut off this argument?

Rof. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter off of nature's Wit.

Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of fuch Goddesses, hath sent this Natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, Wit, whither wander you?

Clo. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel.

Were you made the messenger?

Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

B 3

Rof.

Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. Of a certain Knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and fwore by his honour the mustard was naught: Now I'll ftand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good, and yet was not the Knight forfworn.

Cel. How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge?

Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Clo. Stand you both forth now? stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.

Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you fwear by That that is not, you are not forfworn; no more was this Knight swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is that thou mean'st?
Clo. One, that old Frederick your father loves.

Rof. My father's love is enough to honour him enough; speak no more of him, you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days.

Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wife men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true; for since the little wit that fools have was silenc'd, the little foolery that wife men have makes a great Show: here comes Monfieur Le Beu.

Rof. W

SCENE V.

Enter Le Beu..

ITH his mouth full of news.
Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons

feed their young.

Rof. Then shall we be news-cram'd.

Cel.

1

t

Cel. All the better, we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monfieur le Beu; what news?

Le Beu. Fair Princess, you have loft much good Sport.

Cel. Sport; of what colour?

Le Beu. What colour, Madam? how shall I an

fwer you?

Rof. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the destinies decree. yrt

Cel. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel.

Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank,

Rof. Thou lofest thy old fmell.

Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies; I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the fight

of.

Rof. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

Le Beu. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your Ladyships, you may fee the end, for the best is yet to do; and here where you are, thy are coming to perform it.

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried. Le Beu. There comes an old man and his three fons,

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence;

Rof. With bills on their necks.

Clo. Be it known unto all men by these presents

Le Beu. The eldest of the three wreftled with Charles the Duke's Wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he ferv'd the Second, and so the Third: yonder they lie, the poor old man their father making such pitiful Dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Rof. Alas!

Clo. But what is the Sport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft?